


Today's Memory

by stealyourshiny



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-13
Updated: 2011-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealyourshiny/pseuds/stealyourshiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinkmeme Prompt: What if Fenris loved someone before he got his markings, lost his memory and escaped?<br/>Danarius has a daughter who doesn't agree with slavery. <br/>Behind her father's back she treats the slaves with kindness, especially Fenris. Through her affection and caring nature the two grow very fond of eachother. Whether Danarius finds out about the twos relationship is up to Anon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a Kink Meme Request of Fenris/Danarius' Daughter. 'Caltha' is Latin for "golden flower".

It was him. Oh Maker, it really was him. In all his glory. His green eyes, his dark eyebrows, that olive skin... and of course the tattoos. Her breath caught a little as she studied them from across the room. The day he’d been given those... both of their lives had fallen apart.

She had received the news of her father’s death from Magister Ahriman, as her father had taken one of the Magister’s servants with him on his final trip. She had made the necessary arraignments and filled out the necessary forms, recited the necessary oaths, and now all his property was hers.

All of it.

He was sitting with a strange, motley group of humans, another elf, and a dwarf. They were playing what appeared to be a card game, talking and laughing loudly. One of them, a woman, was barely wearing any clothes at all, as she leaned over him, pressing her breasts into the back of his neck and peering at his cards. He rolled his eyes and swatted her away, which the woman laughed loudly at, leaning away and moving back to sit on the lap of a blond, scruffy man. Another woman, a smaller one sitting next to him, leaned over and whispered something in his ear and then kissed his cheek. Her heart jumped in her chest as she saw him smile. That soft, gentle, half-smile he used to direct at her...


	2. Part One

“Caltha!”

The young lady raised her head from the book she was pouring over in the courtyard, squinting in the bright summer sun as she tried to locate the source of the voice. She saw the familiar grey head of her father coming toward her, flanked by the darker head of his apprentice, Hadriana. She closed her book, placing it on the seat next to her and stood up, adjusting her robes as he came nearer.

“Good afternoon, father,” she said primly, accepting the kiss on the forehead that he gave her in greeting. “Hadriana.”

The dark-haired woman behind her father nodded coldly to her, bright blue eyes flickering briefly toward Danarius as he doted on his only child.

“How have you been? Lemia tells me you’ve been running the house smoothly while I was in Nevarra,” Danarius said, smiling proudly at her.

“Yes, it isn’t very difficult when the slaves do most of the work,” she said, looking at him pointedly. Danarius gave her an indulgent look and shook his head.

“No, child, I will not argue with you about that today. I am having much too wonderful a day to even let our old fights ruin it,” he told her, and kissed her forehead again gently.

“Is that so, father?” Caltha smiled at him curiously, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes! Hadriana and I found a ritual in Nevarra that has been lost for centuries. We are going down to the laboratory now to study it in further detail. If it is intact, we will be testing it soon, I think.”

Caltha pursed her lips slightly, looking at Hadriana, who was smug. She knew that “testing” usually meant that a handful of slaves would be ill or dead in the next week or so. Danarius hugged his daughter gently one last time before stepping away.

“Come Hadriana. I think that if this works, we should definitely search out a warrior for the final product.”

“Yes, I think that a warrior would be the only one with the stam...” Their voices faded from her hearing slowly as her father and his apprentice wandered the rest of the way across the courtyard and down a set of marble stairs. Caltha relaxed slightly and sighed, sitting down again. She looked at the book next to her and smiled, a collection of faerie tales from Orlais.

“Are you going to continue?”

Caltha looked up into the tree above her head and glared at the black-haired elf that was perched high in the branches above her. He smirked back at her, his green eyes glittering with amusement.

“You’re lucky he didn’t see you Leto,” she scolded, trying to look cross with him.

“So what if he did? I am supposed to guard you, am I not?” He grinned, white teeth flashing in contrast to his dark face.

“How do you expect to guard me from up a tree?” Caltha retorted, and pushed some blond strands of hair out of her face, tucking them behind an ear. She jumped in surprise, gasping slightly, as he landed with a soft thud on the ground in front of her.

“I can see better up there. I knew he was coming well before you did,” he replied, crossing his arms. Caltha tutted at him and then smirked.

“Where’s your sword?”

Leto blinked at her and reached for his belt, where his scabbard was not attached. A slow flush creeped across his cheeks. “I took it off in the tree...”

“And left it there?”

“....Hn.” He looked away from her, knowing she’d caught him this time. Caltha laughed gently and stood up, patting his cheek, which made his ears begin to match the color of his cheeks.

“Go get it. We’ll finish the faerie tales later. I want to go change before dinner.” The blond girl picked up the book and waited for Leto to climb up the tree again to get the sword he’d left. She watched him through the side of her eye, admiring his long limbs and lithe muscles as he easily pulled himself through the branches. Caltha turned her gaze to the other side of the courtyard when he came back to her, buckling the scabbard back around his waist.

“Are there any guests this evening?” he asked, pushing his black hair out of his face with a gloved hand.

“No, just father and Hadriana. I’m sure they’ll both wish to eat in the laboratory this evening if the ritual he found is really as special as he said it was,” Caltha replied, already walking toward the stairs that led up to the wing of the house that belonged to her.

“Then why change?”

“Because...” she thought about it a moment, frowning. Why did they change clothes so often? She wasn’t sure she had an answer to that. “Because.”

“That is not an answer,” he teased, grinning at her again. She hmphed at him and walked faster down the hall, causing him to jog a little to keep up.

“Leto!” The two of them stopped and turned as a tall, red-haired elven woman came running up to them. She hurriedly curtsied to Caltha, keeping her eyes down. “Leto, the Master is home and would be... angry... if he saw you behaving in such a way,” she chastised him softly. “I am sorry Mistress. Please forgive his impertinence.”

“Varania, you know I do not care how he acts,” Caltha replied, sighing. “Please stop looking at the floor.”

“I apologise Mistress, but it is not proper, especially while the Master is in the house,” she emphasised, glancing up briefly to look at Leto. The freedom of the last few days had left all the slaves in the house somewhat more relaxed than usual, since Caltha did not care for slavery, and let them usually do as they pleased (within reason) while her father was gone. Caltha watched Leto wince at his sister’s gentle reprimand and nod, taking a step backward so that he was behind Caltha. She sighed, knowing he would let her walk ahead of him and they would not speak again.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, Varania. Thank you,” Caltha said. Varania curtsied again.

“Will you be needing anything this evening, Mistress?”

“Yes, please have some hot water brought up. I will bathe before dinner,” she replied gently. Varania nodded and waited. Caltha knew Varania would not attend to anything else while she was standing there, so with another sigh, she moved on, leaving Varania behind, and only the telltale scuffing noise of leather against leather the sign that Leto was still behind her, as always.


	3. Part Two

Surprisingly, her father did come up to dinner. Hadriana also joined them, sitting across from Caltha. Conversation mostly flickered back and forth between her father and his apprentice, as they discussed the new ritual they’d found and what they would need. A brief moment of silence fell as the courses were switched out and Hadriana’s eyes followed the slaves as they moved in and out of the room quietly.

“Is that your slave outside?” she asked suddenly, taking a sip of her wine and locking her eyes on Caltha.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Caltha replied, the model of decorum, but her own brown eyes narrowed at the dark-haired woman. Caltha had never cared for Hadriana, but she was always civil in front of her father.

“The dark-haired one with the sword. I wasn’t aware that there were any elves in your house that could carry weapons,” Hadriana replied, her mouth twitching a little.

“Oh that is Leto,” Danarius replied. “He is her watch dog. I do not like her being alone in the house.” He frowned a little, ignoring the fact that when he wasn’t in the house, she was far from alone with the other thirty slaves wandering about.

“He’s very handsome,” Hadriana said slyly. Caltha took a sip of her own wine, trying to hide the flush she knew was rising to her cheeks.

“Is he? I hadn’t noticed. I’m surprised you did,” Caltha replied, keeping her eyes on her plate and glass, not trusting herself to look at Hadriana.

“Well, one can’t help but notice an elf carrying a sword. Is he very good with it?” Hadriana’s smirk broadened slightly.

“He better be,” Danarius replied, wiping his mouth. “He’s been training since he was tall enough to hold the damned thing.” A dark haired female elf came into the room then, curtsying to the three. “Lemia! We were just discussing Leto. How old is he now?” Caltha thought she saw a small smile cross Lemia’s features briefly.

“Eighteen, Master.”

“Really? When did we start his training with the sword?”

“When he was twelve, Master.”

“That’s right. There you are, six years with a sword.” Danarius drained his glass and stood up. “No dessert tonight for me Lemia. I have work to do. Can you send someone down to wait on us in case we need anything?” Lemia nodded and curtsied again as Danarius and Hadriana stood. Caltha finished her wine and stood with them, smiling at Leto’s mother as she waited for them to leave. When they stepped into the hallway again, Caltha saw Leto straighten up from where he’d been slouching against a wall, waiting for her. Danarius kissed her cheek and said good night to her before turning with Hadriana again toward the direction of his laboratory. Caltha sighed when he was out of sight and turned toward Leto, who stood to attention, his green eyes fixed on a spot above her head somewhere.

“Stop it,” she whispered, and impulsively grabbed his hand. His eyes widened a little and he glanced around quickly to make sure they were alone.

“You are trying to get me in trouble again,” he whispered back, leaning his mouth down by her ear. Caltha shivered as his breath tickled her neck.

“Maybe I am,” she replied, flashing a grin at him as she pulled him toward the stairs. “You know you want to hear the end of the story I was reading this afternoon...” Leto chuckled and nodded his assent.

“Of course.” He let the seventeen-year-old pull him up the stairs, for she knew that if he didn’t want moved, she would never have been able to move him. Caltha didn’t worry if anyone saw them, she knew most of the slaves in the house were aware of how she let Leto do mostly as he pleased. Some were probably a little jealous of his freedom, and his ability to stay out of Danarius’ way thanks to his position as bodyguard to the Magister’s daughter.

They arrived at the door to her room, breathless and giggling, Caltha reached for the doorknob but stopped when Leto insinuated an arm around her waist from behind. She sighed softly and leaned back against him, enjoying his warmth.

“I love you,” Leto whispered in her ear before kissing the curve of her neck. Caltha’s heart fluttered a little and she turned around to face Leto, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“I love you too,” she replied softly, kissed him one more time for good measure, and then opened the door to her room. Leto followed her inside and closed the door behind them.


	4. Part Three

There had been some kissing, and then she’d curled up on her bed, fully clothed, with the book of faerie tales. Leto settled on the bed with her, arm around her waist, teasing her ears and neck while she read to him. They’d fallen asleep like that, contently tangled together.

It was the sound of shattering china that awoke them the next morning.

“LETO!”

The noise startled them both out of sleep and Caltha rubbed her eyes as she sat up. Leto was bolt upright next to her, his hand going for his sword, even though it was on the floor next to the bed. Caltha’s eyes focused slowly on the red-haired elf that had entered her room, carrying a small tray with Caltha’s morning tea, which was now on the floor. The china cup was in pieces spread across the room in front of Varania, whose hands were over her mouth, her large green eyes even larger. Caltha felt her cheeks flushing, the heat spreading across her face and neck and she looked away from Varania.

“...I... I am... Mistress. I am sorry about your tea!” Varania suddenly dropped to her knees, trying to collect the pieces of the cup and saucer. Leto, looking calm and composed, rose from the bed and went to help her.

“No, it’s fine, Varania,” Caltha replied, her voice trembling a little. They had slept later than usual. Leto was usually gone by the time the sun rose, so that they wouldn’t be caught, and Caltha was equal parts terrified and relieved that it was Varania who had caught them.

“No, it was very careless of me, Mistress,” she replied, her voice more controlled now. “I should be punished for my clumsiness.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Varania.” Caltha stood then, being careful in her slippered feet as she moved to where the two elves were collecting the pieces. “Here, give them to me. I’ll tell father I dropped it and he will repair it for me.” She held out her hands to take the pieces, but neither Leto or Varania would give her the sharp porcelain.

“I will take them, Mistress. It would not do if you cut yourself,” Varania replied, and took the pieces that Leto was holding as she stood. “I will return with a broom while you breakfast and make sure that there are no more pieces.”

“Oh. Okay then...” Caltha replied. She tangled her fingers in the cloth of her dress - they’d fallen asleep in the clothes they’d been wearing the evening before. “I will... go eat then...” Caltha hesitated a moment, her expression stricken as she looked at the brother and sister.

“Leto, will you assist me, please?” Varania said. Varania’s voice seemed calm, but Caltha knew the red-head well enough to know that Leto was probably going to get an earful the moment they were out of her sight. She would never lose her temper in front of a non-slave. Leto glanced at Caltha and gave her a wry smile, but it was a little reassuring as he followed his sister out of the room. The young girl waited five seconds before scampering to the door that had closed behind the siblings and pressed her ear to it.

 _“What do you think you are doing?”_ Varania was whispering fiercely. Caltha strained to hear Leto’s reply, but his voice was just a low rumble through the door.

 _“Are you stupid? You can’t... I don’t even... She is the daughter of a Magister and you are a slave, Leto. And she’s human!”_ Varania’s voice sounded close to breaking. _“Do you have any idea what would happen if you were caught!? What would he do to Mother and me? What would we do without you?”_ Caltha could hear her beginning to cry now.

 _“Leto, you need to grow up and realise that you are a slave. Slaves do not do as they please. You have been lucky thus far, but if you keep going how you are, someone is going to get hurt or worse.”_ She could hear Leto again, rumbling sharply at his sister.

 _“Love? Love is not for us, Leto. You do not have a choice in this. You need to stop it!”_ Caltha could feel tears starting to well up in her own eyes. It had never occurred to her that they would be hurting anyone, but the thought of him never looking at her again, never smiling at her, kissing her. She wasn’t sure she would be able to handle that. The door suddenly jerked open in front of her, and she found herself staring at Leto’s chest. He was shaking in anger. Caltha hiccuped and looked up at him.

“I forgot my sword,” he said slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down. Caltha could see Varania with her back to them, still holding the broken pieces of china. Leto walked past her into the room and bent down, picking up his sword where he’d left it overnight and came back to her. He stopped next to her and reached over, tilting her chin a little and wiping away a tear. Caltha felt relief spread through her body as he smiled gently and leaned down to kiss her lightly. Leto glanced in the direction of Varania after he released her lips and stepped into the hallway again. “I will return after your breakfast.”

Caltha nodded a little and closed her eyes for a moment, listening to his feet as they walked away, down the hallway and toward the slaves’ quarters. When she opened them again, Varania was looking at her, her lips pursed tightly.

“ _Mistress_ , I will bring you a new teacup for your morning tea. Will you be requiring anything else?”

The girl could do nothing but shake her head. Varania turned on her heel and stalked off down the hallway, the opposite direction from Leto. Caltha let out her breath, not even realising she’d been holding it, and closed the door to her room. She didn’t care if she stepped on broken china, she ran to her bed and threw herself across it, sobbing loudly.


	5. Part Four

The next few days saw her keeping mostly to her room. Leto was not required to be with her when her father was home, he had his own guards to protect the house, as well as his magic, if anyone decided to attack, but they were at the summer home and very few would attack him here, especially on his own ground. Caltha tried on a number of occasions to speak with Varania about what had happened, but the red-head refused to acknowledge that anything _had_ happened. She continued to work as usual, though she had less to do since Caltha was feigning illness in her room.

She knew that Leto was out in the hallway waiting for her whenever he was able to wait for her. She would have called for him if she needed him for any reason, but Caltha wasn’t sure she wanted to see him right now. Idle hands were not tolerated under her father’s roof however, and Lemia made sure that her son was never idle for very long.

After she’d been moping for a week in her room, her father came to see her, knocking on the door gently one morning. Caltha was in her sitting room, settled on a window seat and looking out the window with a book on her lap. When her father entered, she stood up and put her book down.

“Good morning, father,” she said softly, looking at her feet. Danarius came over and kissed her forehead gently.

“Good morning my dear. How are you feeling today?”

“...Better,” she lied.

“Good, I’m glad.” He smiled at her and looked out her window at the courtyard below. “Our experiment is going well. I believe I will be ready to create a final product soon.” Caltha flinched slightly behind her father’s back. She’d heard rumblings that some of the older slaves had been drained in her father’s ritual, and that a handful of new slaves had been bought. There was also talk of a contest of some sort, the winner would receive a boon from her father.

“That’s wonderful father,” she said, though she sounded anything but thrilled.

“Yes.” He turned around again to face her. “Tomorrow there is going to be a contest here, on the grounds. Some gladiators and warriors will be coming for a small competition.”

“Is that so?” Caltha looked somewhat interested in hearing more about the rumors she’d only caught bits and pieces of lately.

“Yes, and I would prefer it if you were not here while they were. I would feel better if you went into town tomorrow. Make a day of it. Go shopping for some new clothes. I was thinking of taking a trip to Carastes next week and bringing you along,” Danarius told her, and she nodded her head in acquiescence.

“Of course, father. I will make sure that Leto-”

“Not necessary, my dear. Joran!” Danarius called to someone outside her room, and stiffened a little as a tall man came in. He was carrying a large staff, with a blade taking up almost half of the length of it. “Caltha, this is Joran. He has recently finished his apprenticeship with Magister Orelic, and I have hired to him to escort you tomorrow.”

“But-”

“You should get some rest my dear. I do want you to be feeling better tomorrow so that you can enjoy your day out.” With that, Danarius pat her shoulder and left the room. Joran bowed and followed him.


	6. Part Five

Her ‘day out’ proved to be exhausting. Joran was... well she wasn’t quite sure what he was. He seemed perfectly gentlemanly on the surface, and carried her packages and bags without complaint, but there was something. Caltha couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was, but it bothered her. Something about the way he looked at her. When the sun started to go down, she put her foot down; contest or no, she was tired and she was going home. The grounds were quiet when they reached the mansion, presumably the contest was over. Joran carried her packages upstairs and placed them on the divan and table in her sitting room before she thanked him kindly and shooed him from her chambers.

Caltha sighed when he was finally gone and began pulling pins from her hair, letting her curly blond locks down. She kicked her shoes off, and stepped out of her robes, tired of the layers. She opened the door to her bedroom, wearing only her linen slip, and walked in, settling herself in front of her vanity mirror to brush her hair. Looking into her mirror she inspected her face minutely, worrying about all the sun she’d been standing in that day, hoping that there weren’t too many new freckles - her father always frowned when he noticed them (but Leto liked them so she didn’t mind _too_ much).

“I am fairly positive that your face looks exactly the same as it did this morning,” a rumbling voice said from behind her. Caltha gasped and spun around, seeing Leto lounging on her bed, smiling at her.

“What are you doing in here?” she whispered fiercely, grabbing the house-coat that was on the chair behind her and trying to wrap herself in it. Leto laughed softly at her. He untangled his long legs and stood up, moving over to her.

“You have been avoiding me. For a week,” he leaned down, his nose barely brushing against hers. Caltha stopped trying to cover herself as she found her world suddenly filled with green eyes.

“I... I’ve not been feeling well,” she lied, and she winced as he straightened again. Caltha could tell he didn’t believe her.

“I won.”

“What?”

“The competition. I won it.”

Caltha’s eyes widened and she looked up at him. “You... you competed? For that... that thing that father is doing?” Leto shrugged and looked at a gloved palm, flexing his fingers.

“He wanted me to. Asked me to, even.”

“Leto, please don’t do it! He... You know about the slaves he’s drained doing his tests! You... You might die!” Caltha stood up, throwing herself against Leto’s chest.

“I am just a slave, Caltha,” he said softly, though she could hear the pain in his voice even as he said it. “And you are not.” Leto lifted her chin to look at him, and she could feel the tears filling her eyes. “Varania... She...” He sighed and frowned, unsure of himself for once.

“Don’t listen to her, Leto, I love you. I don’t care that you’re a slave!”

He smiled, that gentle half-smile. “She told me about your father... The Maker, He’s been smiling on me for some time. I have been very fortunate, I do not go with the Master when he leaves you. She has gone with him and has seen what he does when you are not around. He is not... He is not who you think he is.”

“Please Leto... We could... I don’t know... We could run away!” She stared pleadingly into his eyes and caught his breath for a moment before closing his eyes.

“No, you know we could not do that, Caltha. We would be on the run constantly, and you... you must admit, that rough travel is not something you would handle well.” He smiled at her a little. He was right and she knew it and she hated it.

“...When?”

“Tomorrow morning. He already made all the preparations yesterday, he just needed his... ‘volunteer’.”

“Why... why did you come here?”

“I wanted to say goodbye. I heard you are being sent to Carastes tomorrow.” Caltha blinked and looked at him, her brow furrowing. She wiped at her eyes and stepped away from him for a moment.

“Tomorrow? Sent? No... Father... He said that we were going on a trip next week to Carastes, but not that we were leaving tomorrow.” Leto frowned as well and shook his head.

“I heard him tell Mother to prepare for your departure. You were leaving with that mage... Joran, tomorrow evening.”

“Not... with you?”

He shook his head. “I am... I will have a new function.”

“So... This is... I guess. At least for a while, I mean...”

“I do not think we will see much of each other again,” he confirmed quietly, and cupped her cheek in his hand. Caltha wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. She closed her eyes and gasped softly as his arm snaked around her waist. Leto took advantage of her gasp, sliding his tongue into her mouth, kissing her with an intensity that made her knees begin to shake. Caltha gasped for air when he released her mouth, his lips beginning to make a trail across her jaw and down her neck. Caltha’s fingers tangled themselves into his soft, black hair and she bit her lower lip. She could feel the hand that had been at her face, sliding down her body gently, but it hesitated over her chest before finally resting on her ribcage, just under her breast.

She pushed him away. “L-Leto. I’m... I’m not sure-” She looked at him and could see the hurt in his eyes.

“Because I am a slave? An elf? I love you, Caltha, what could possibly be wrong with that?”

“No! I mean, it’s not any of those things, Leto. Don’t say that. I love you too, I’m just...” Scared. She was terrified. This was something she’d certainly had fantasies about, what teenage girl didn’t? Now that it had come to reality though, she wasn’t sure what to make of the whirl of confusion in her head, the heat she was feeling deep on her stomach, how she wanted his hands on her, but at the same time, she was scared of what would happen when they were. She nervously twisted and tore at the sleeve of her housecoat, still only half hanging on her body, looking around the room, thinking about what she wanted, how things would change.

Caltha looked at Leto. Strong, thin, smiling, teasing, handsome, intelligent Leto. She wasn’t sure what she could possibly do without him around to read to, to hug, to talk to, and kiss, and tease, and love. This was her last night with him, and she made up her mind to make it a memorable one. Caltha let her housecoat slide off of her shoulder and onto the floor, so it was just her and her slip and him. She walked back to him and licked her lips. Caltha kissed him with all the passion her body could muster; it was his turn to get jelly knees.

Leto sat down on her bed, pulling her with him. Caltha squeaked and then giggled a little as she shifted herself around so she was straddling his lap. Vaguely, she heard his gloves hit the floor and could feel his sword-callused hands sliding up her thighs, teasing the bare skin under her slip. She tugged insistantly at the buttons on the front of his shirt, opening it and pushing it off his shoulders. Caltha pulled away from Leto for a second, taking a short breath before she began to explore the paler skin of his neck and shoulder. She became aware that her slip had made it up to her hips now, and his fingers were playing with the edge of her smalls, nervous and trembling a little against her skin.

“Ah... Leto...” she moaned softly against his shoulder, and rocked her hips a slightly, which elicited a groan from him as well. Leto pulled her face to his again, and kissed her, gasping when she rolled her hips again experimentally.

“Cal-”

“Mistress!!”

They both froze for a moment, staring through her sitting room to the door that led to the hallway. _Knock. Knock. Knock._

“Mistress, I’ve brought your evening tea!”

“Varania!” Leto swore several times and fell backward onto the mattress of Caltha’s bed, pulling a pillow over his head.

“I don’t drink evening tea,” Caltha whispered to him, “She knows that.” Caltha climbed off of Leto’s lap and grabbed her housecoat, pulling her slip back down and trying to make herself look sort of presentable. The warmth in her stomach was dying slowly, but the heat between her thighs was still there, and a little uncomfortable and she made her way slowly across the room.

She very carefully cracked the door to her room open and saw Varania standing there, holding a tray with a cup of hot tea on it. Caltha frowned a little and opened her mouth, but Varania shifted her head ever so slightly to the left, indicating that there was someone else in the hallway. Caltha opened the door and allowed Varania into the room, she closed the door again behind the elf and turned around, watching Varania put the tray on the table and light a lamp.

“Where is he?” she whispered and Caltha flushed darkly, her eyes flickering toward her bedroom. Varania didn’t seem perturbed however and went straight in. “The Master is looking for you, Leto.”

Caltha followed Varania into her room and caught her breath a little when she spoke. Leto sighed under the pillow he’d been swearing into and sat up, looking more than a little mussed.

“You can’t go out there, Joran is in the hallway, isn’t he?” Caltha looked to Varania who nodded. Leto growled a little, and pulled his shirt back up, rebuttoning it as best he could.

“He wants you in the laboratory, he said he couldn’t wait,” Varania said, her voice cracking slightly. “He called you Fen’ris.” Leto snorted softly and stood up, looking for his gloves.

“What’s that?”

“Bastardized elvhan. Means ‘little wolf’,” Leto replied, reaching under the bed to pull one of his gloves out.

“I’ll make some sort of ruckus, pull Joran in here and you can go out the bedroom door to the hall,” Varania told him, picking up his other glove and handing it to him. She turned to go back to the sitting room.

“Wait!” Caltha ran over to her vanity and opened a drawer. She rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a small pair of scissors. She came back to him and reached up, snipping off a small section of his hair, which she placed carefully inside the book of faerie tales before snipping off a curl of her own hair and sliding it into his pocket. “There.” She kissed him, not caring now that his sister was there.

“You need to go now, Leto. He will not be patient for long,” Varania whispered fiercely, pushing him toward the bedroom door and pulling Caltha into the sitting room with her. She closed the door between the sitting room and the bedroom and looked around the sitting room for something to use as a distraction, finally her eyes settling on the lamp in her hand. “Forgive me, Mistress,” she said before throwing the lamp to the ground with a shattering crash. There were flames almost immediately, devouring the tassels of the rug on her floor.

Varania let out a scream, and Caltha, her stomach jumping into her heart did the same. The door to her room swung open and Joran was standing there, looking concerned.

“What’s happened?” he yelled, and pulled the two girls away from the flames, bringing his magic to bear. Caltha glanced out the open door and saw Leto run past; he’d gotten out the other room without being seen.

“It was an accident!” Caltha said when Joran had put the flames out and had lit a fire in her sitting room fireplace. “I- I was drinking my tea and telling Varania about my day, and I hit the lamp.” Joran thankfully didn’t comment on the lamp having broken a good three feet from the table, and seemed to accept her excuse. He used his magic to clear the glass and debris from the small fire before leaving the room again to resume his guard post. Caltha and Varania both took deep breaths when he was gone and looked at each other.

“...Thank you, Varania,” she said gently, smiling at the red-haired elf.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Varania replied, and there was a little bitterness in her voice, but it didn’t seem directed at Caltha. “That stupid... His boon.”

“What?” Caltha sat down on her divan, next to Varania, pulling her housecoat around her and looking at the red-head curiously. Varania wiped at her eyes as she tried not to cry.

“His boon. For winning the competition. The Mas-... Magister Danarius. The Magister told me what it was he asked for,” she said, correcting herself and straightening her back a little. “He asked for Mother and me to be freed.” Caltha’s eyes widened and her breath caught a little before she threw her arms around Varania’s thin form. Leto’s older sister had never spoken to her like this before, and Caltha regretted that they had never been able to be friends. “We are leaving with you tomorrow afternoon. There is a Magister in Carastes that is looking for servants. Servants, not slaves.”

“I’m happy for you both,” Caltha said, hugging Varania.

“I’d rather have my brother,” Varania whispered and then began to cry. Caltha pat her gently, letting the elf cry on her, feeling very much the same way. After a few minutes Varania pulled away and they both wiped their eyes and laughed a little. “I’m sorry Mis- Messere. I think I should go help mother pack. Will you need assistance in the morning?”

“I can do it myself,” Caltha replied with a small smile. Varania returned the smile and stood, smoothing her dress and wiping her eyes again as she walked to the door.

It didn’t open.

Varania pulled again, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s locked!”

“What?!” Caltha stood up and went to the door as well, tugging at the doorknob. “Try the other door!” Varania disappeared into her bedroom as Caltha tugged at the sitting room door and then pounded on it. “Joran! Open this door!” Varania came back, shaking her head.

“It is locked too. They are magical locks. I do not know the spells to unlock them, I am sorry!”

“Joran!!” Caltha kicked her door angrily, and then sat down on the floor, her foot hurting a little. “Why would he lock us in here?”

Varania’s eyes widened and she looked toward the window. Caltha’s eyes widened a moment later as she heard what it was that Varania’s elven hears had heard first - someone screaming. She stood up and ran to the window, seeing strange lights and colors flashing in the courtyard.

“It’s coming from the laboratory,” Varania whispered and put a hand to her mouth. “Leto!”


	7. Chapter 7

The cries continued intermitantly through the night, keeping Varania and Caltha from sleeping. The two girls had curled up on her bed, silently praying and crying, and dozing while they waited for the sun to rise. Finally, shortly before noon, Caltha heard the door to her sitting room open. She and Varania came out of the bedroom, both wrinkled and groggy, but only caring that the door had finally been unlocked.

Danarius was there. He smiled at them both, his hands folded in front of him as he waited for them to compose themselves.

“Good morning my dear, and Serah Varania. I believe that you will want to change clothes before you leave, Caltha.”

“Leave?” Caltha blinked at her father for a moment.

“Yes dear, I’m sending you to Carastes, to the Chantry there.”

“You’re... sending... me to... a Chantry?” Caltha’s mouth opened slightly in amazement.

“Of course dear, you aren’t going to do me any good by staying here. I can’t marry you off since you still have not shown any magical inclination, and an anti-slave, non-mage child really is nothing but a burden. I still love you of course darling, but I think you’ll be much happier in the Chantry. You don’t have to take orders of course, unless you want to, but you are required to remain there until my death.”

Caltha stared at her father. He was speaking kindly, even jovially to her, as if he weren’t telling her he was getting rid of her and that she was nothing more than a dead weight around his neck.

“The slaves will be packing your things, and putting them into storage until such time that you may need them again. The Chantry will not allow you to keep many possessions of course, but I’m sure one or two small items wouldn’t go awry should you wish to bring any.”

Caltha was speechless. Her brain couldn’t - wouldn’t - wrap itself around the idea that her father, her doting, argumentative father, was getting rid of her.

“Mast- um... Ma-Magister?” Varania said finally, timidly. Her eyes full of worry.

“Oh yes, Serah Varania. Your... Hm... Leto. He is well. He is resting now, and I’m afraid he will be resting for some time. You will not be able to see him before you leave with your mother.”

Varania released her breath, relieved, and nodded. “Yes, sir. May I? Um...” She looked to Caltha, sympathetic, but distant. Caltha’s problems were not hers. Danarius waved her away with a nod. Varania almost ran from the room, presumably to find her mother.

“Well dearest, you should probably get dressed and collect anything you wish to take with you,” Danarius told her, standing up.

“Father? May... May I say goodby to Leto? He was... he was my bodyguard for many years, after all. I do have some... affection for him,” she said, her brow furrowing as she still tried to process what was happening.

“I’m sorry my dear, but I think not. He has been through a very difficult night and I do not believe interrupting his rest with the frivolities of a little girl is a good idea. Be ready to leave within the hour.” Danarius leaned forward and kissed her forehead, as he always did, and left the room.


	8. Part Seven

She had been in the Chantry for months. It wasn’t... terrible. It was quiet, and there were things to keep her busy. Caltha had found she wasn’t the only non-magical child that had been shunted away to the Chantry, abandoned and forgotten. She was the only one that did not have siblings, however, so she had a difficult time finding common ground with her fellow lay-sisters and lay-brothers. So she spent much of her time in the Chantry itself, helping the poor, listening to the sermons.

That’s where she saw him.

He began to come in the evenings, dark himself, but it was the shock of white hair that had caught her attention. He did not move like an elderly person, he was too lithe and lean. Like an acrobat or a rogue. He stayed in the back of the Nave, however, near the door. As if he wasn’t sure what he was doing in the Chantry to begin with. He would usually leave without speaking to anyone. She had asked around, wondering who he was, but no one else seemed to ever see him.

Finally, one evening, she saw him. He was in the back again, near the door, fidgeting, hesitating. He did not seem like a person that hesitated often.

“Excuse me?” she said, softly and gently, hoping not to scare him away. “Do you... are you in need of help?” Caltha smiled encouragingly, waiting. He had stiffened when she spoke to him, and was standing in the shadow of the nearest pillar. His clothing - no it was armor, she could see now - was black, but there was a soft glow about him. His hair and something else. Lines on his arms and neck that she could see faintly in the shadows. He had clawed gloves, she could see the metal on his fingers, and shivered a little, despite herself. Caltha remembered that some of her father’s guards had worn those, and they were usually very sharp.

“I...” he sounded unsure, but slowly stepped out of the shadow toward her a little. “I need to find someone.”

Caltha’s eyes travelled up his arms, seeing now that the lines she had seen were tattoos. All over his body. He was covered in them, and they glittered, the light playing strangely on them as he moved. When her eyes reached his face she stopped breathing.

“L...Leto?” Those eyes, that nose, mouth, eyebrows, it was him. It was Leto, but his hair was white; pure, glowing white. She realised she should have recognised his voice, but she hadn’t heard him speak in such a long time. He frowned slightly, his eyes devoid if any recognition of her. Was she really all that changed? Caltha’s hands went up to her hair, her face, she looked down at her clothes. That must be it, he just didn’t recognise her like this.

“I’m sorry, my Master has sent me...”

“Leto, it’s Caltha!”

“You are Caltha!” He seemed relieved. “I was sent to find you. My Master wanted to see you.”

“Leto?”

He frowned again. “Can you come? Magister Danarius-”

“My father is here?” She stepped toward him eagerly. Perhaps he had changed his mind. The elf stepped away from her quickly, obviously not comfortable with her proximity.

“Will you come or not?” he said finally, firmly. He seemed to be out of his element here, and was nervous.

“Yes, Leto, I will come,” she said softly, almost disappointed that he wouldn’t let her come close. Perhaps they were being watched?

“My name is Fenris.”

She blinked at him and frowned. He opened the door leading out of the Chantry for her and she stepped through it, opening her mouth to protest. He was already off again though, walking ahead of her, showing her the right direction without ever touching her. Leto would have touched her. Leto would have taken her hand and led her properly so she wouldn’t get lost on the streets or hurt.

They apparently didn’t have far to go. An inn, barely two streets down from the Chantry was where they stopped. She entered the room, which was very empty by inn standards, and found a small entourage of guards playing cards in one corner, and her father, with Hadriana, drinking wine and talking in another corner. Danarius looked up when the door opened and smiled broadly, standing and putting his arms out.

“Caltha, darling!” She looked around the room again and walked warily toward him. Leto or Fenris or whatever he was being called walked straight to her father and placed himself protectively behind the Magister.

“Hello father...” she said uncertainly, but he kissed her forehead, as he always did when he greeted her.

“I was in the area and thought I’d stop by to see you, dearest.” Caltha’s eyes flicked from her father to Hadriana and then to Leto. “Oh, I see you’ve noticed my Fenris.” He grinned at her, and looked over at the elf, who was fidgeting again, with more than a little bit of a leer. “Come here Fenris.”

The elf stepped forward, keeping his eyes at a point above her head, like all good warrior slaves. Her father ran a hand over his shoulders appreciatively before gliding a finger over the cartilage of the elf’s ear. She saw ‘Fenris’ flinch slightly at the touch, but remained where he was. Caltha could feel her stomach turning and the room was suddenly very warm and she almost felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“Fenris, why don’t you go upstairs for a bit. I want to speak to Caltha alone,” Danarius told the elf, releasing him to do as he was told, which he did immediately. Her father’s idea of ‘alone’ appeared to be with Hadriana and ten other mercenaries listening in. “He doesn’t remember anything,” Danarius told her, watching the elf as he disappeared up the stairs. “My experiment was a success, but most of his memory was cleaned away. His instincts remembered his fighting skills, and speech, and all the basic necessities, but no name, no personality. He was a slate, wiped clean by the pain of the lyrium I etched into his skin.” Danarius smirked a little and turned to his daughter. “You do have delightful taste though, my dear. He is very lovely.”

Caltha couldn’t take anymore, and turned, running from the inn, the sound of Hadriana and her father laughing ringing in her ears.


	9. Epilogue

She couldn’t bring herself to go over. To talk to him. He was so close, but he still wouldn’t remember her, she knew. She had hoped, when he had contacted Varania, that maybe some of his memory had returned, but no. She could see here, he had a new life.

Wuf.

Caltha blinked and looked down at the strange noise. It was a dog. A huge dog. A huge, slobbering dog. And it was staring at her. A mabari. She blinked as she remembered these dogs were more common the further south one went. She looked around the loud bar and then knelt down to the dog’s level.

“Do you... Do you know F-Fenris?” she asked it, remembering that mabari were incredibly intelligent animals. The dog made another wuf sound and panted. She smiled a little, feeling foolish for talking to a dog and thinking that it understood her. “Would you... Can you make sure he gets this?” Caltha put a book down on the floor by the dog’s paws. It leaned over and smelled the book very thoroughly then wuf’d again. Caltha smiled and pat it gently on the head.

~

“Dog! What do you have this time!?” Hawke sighed and reached down to take whatever the dog had procured from another patron away. He was always bringing her odd things, usually covered in slobber. “A book? Maker’s breath, where do you get these things?”

Hawke put the book onto the table and scolded the dog for stealing the book from some drunk somewhere.

“What’s that Hawke?” Anders leaned across the table, turning the book a little so he could see it better.

“The stupid mutt picked it up somewhere, Maker knows where he finds these things.”

“That’s a nice book,” Varric said, reaching forward as well. “Leather bound copy of Orlesian Faerie Tales? Wow, that’s a rare book indeed. Maybe your mabari could go find me some odds and ends one of these days.” He chuckled and pushed the book back to Hawke who sighed and snuggled herself under Fenris’ arm. She opened it front cover, looking to see if there was some clue as to whom the book belonged to.

“Is that... hair?” Isabela asked, peering over the table at the little lock of jet black hair, tied together with a ribbon.

“Oh there’s a paper in here, good. Maybe we can get this back to its owner,” Hawke said, pulling a folded piece of parchment out of the pages. It looked like it was being used as a bookmark. She opened the paper and turned it over, taking a look.

The conversation at the table quieted down quickly when Hawke inhaled sharply, staring at the paper in front of her.

“What does it say?” Fenris asked her after a brief moment of silence. Hawke blinked and looked at him for a moment before handing it over.

“I think... I think you should read this.” He frowned, not sure about that. His reading was much better, of course, but he was not confident about reading in front of other people, especially since he still needed to sound words out.

“Why don’t you just tell us?” he suggested, hoping she’d take the hint. Hawke shook her head.

“You really need to read this yourself, Fenris.” He glanced nervously around the table, but took the paper, laying it on the table in front of him and leaning over it. Fenris’ lips moved as he sounded out each word before saying it aloud.

“Court of Records, Minrathous, Tevinter Imperium.” Fenris blinked and looked at Hawke, who pointed to a specific part of the paper. “It is dek...reed that Leto, formmerlee prroperrtee of one Mmaajister Danaareeus...” He looked up at Hawke again, his eyes wide. The whole table was quiet. Hawke took the paper from him.

“It is decreed that Leto, formerly property of one Magister Danarius and now property of his daughter Caltha, is declared a free man and citizen of the Imperium,” she read aloud. Fenris took the paper from her again and stared at it, speechless.

“Wow Hawke, your dog is a damn fine scavenger!” Varric exclaimed with a small whistle. Hawke closed the book gently and handed it to Fenris.

“No more slavers will be able to come after you,” Hawke said with a smile, and kissed him. “You’re free, love.”


End file.
